


New Connections

by JRA3933



Series: Necessary Changes [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 19:41:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16435604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JRA3933/pseuds/JRA3933
Summary: “It’ll be fine. They’ll love you.”She could feel his warm breath on her cheek as he let out a loud puff of air.“I’m not the sort you’d want to bring home to family.”She wrapped her arms around him, as far as they could reach. “I’d be proud to bring you home to meet my mother. But they’re coming here, to see me, and they want to meet you too. I’ve told them about you, you know that.”





	New Connections

Sandor was nervous. He didn’t say anything about it, but Sansa could tell. She’d come home from work to find the apartment spotless- which was saying something, given it’s usual state of extreme cleanliness. She’d entered without really looking, toeing off her heels with a sigh of relief, when she’d finally taken notice of Sandor.

 

“What- what’re you doing?”

 

He was on his knees, the light from the fridge somewhat blocked by his bulk. Sansa took in the piles of food on the counter, and glanced past Sandor to see the empty interior of the fridge. He rose to his feet, scowling, paper towels and spray bottle in hand.

 

“Can’t a man clean his own kitchen?”

 

It was already beyond clean, by Sansa’s standards. The counter looked scrubbed, the metal sink and faucet gleamed, and even the toaster and microwave sat unplugged, open as they aired out from what must have been a thorough washing.

 

“Of course you can.” Stooping to pick up her heels, Sansa padded into the living room, taking in the disarray of Sandor’s free weights. It looked as though he’d been trying fruitlessly to rearrange them, shove them under the weight bench perhaps, find some way of making them more presentable. Sansa made her way into her bedroom and sat on her futon, rubbing at her feet. Her job wasn’t a difficult one. She wasn’t even a salesgirl yet. All she had to do was stock shelves while wearing the store’s clothing, a living mannequin. The pinched aching in her toes was her own fault, really. She ought to have realized she’d be on her feet the whole time, and worn something more appropriate.

 

Stripping off her skirt and blouse, Sansa threw on her favorite night-shirt before tying her robe. She made her way back into the kitchen, glancing into the gleaming bathroom on her way over. Sandor was still in front of the fridge, wiping away at the already-clean shelves. He looked up at her approach, and she saw the glint of fear in his eyes.

 

It took her a bit aback, truth be told. She’d never known him to fear anything, really. He grew nervous around fire of course, but even Joffrey had known not to push that particular button. She tugged on his arm, and he allowed her to draw him to his feet.

 

“It’s  _ clean _ .”

 

Sandor sighed, and opened the bin to toss the paper towels he’d been scrubbing with. He leaned against the counter, spray bottle still loosely held in his hand, watching as Sansa carried all their food back to push into the fridge. When she had finished, she moved into the living room, shifting the weights into a more orderly arrangement. She felt Sandor approach, and was grateful when he took the weight she’d been trying to shift from her. The smaller ones were one thing, but some of the larger were difficult to stack without fear of a pinched finger.

 

“Thanks.”

 

She stayed where she was, on her knees on the threadbare carpet, as he finished his task. When he’d finished, he sat back on his heels in front of her. She watched him in the silence. Stretching, she could just rest her chin on his shoulder.

 

“It’ll be fine. They’ll love you.”

 

She could feel his warm breath on her cheek as he let out a loud puff of air.

 

“I’m not the sort you’d want to bring home to family.”

 

She wrapped her arms around him, as far as they could reach. “I’d be proud to bring you home to meet my mother. But they’re coming here, to see me, and they want to meet you too. I’ve told them about you, you know that.”

 

He turned to face her, pulled her closer until she knelt between his splayed thighs. “How much.”

 

“Enough.” They had all been warned of his scars, she would not have them embarrass him with their surprise when they arrived. She hadn’t felt the need to go into detail about his relation to Gregor- Sansa had the feeling that Arya, at least, would’ve Googled his name the second she’d learned it, and her younger sister was not known for keeping her silence.

 

It was late, and she was tired. After a hasty bowl of cold cereal, the both of them stood up to seek the comfort of bed. In the hallway, Sansa pulled Sandor to a stop.

 

“Tonight I think I should-” She gestured towards the half opened door leading to her own room. Sandor nodded without saying anything, and she caught his arm as he tried to turn away.

 

“It’s got nothing to do with you. I just haven't seen them in  _ years _ , and I need to get my head sorted. I need to be alone some.” She bit her lip, willing him to understand.

 

He leaned down and kissed her, no more than a light brush of his own lips against hers. She closed her eyes, lips feeling too warm. She almost regretted her decision then- she wanted to feel more, to have the comfort of his body pressed against hers.

 

“Goodnight, little bird.”

 

And he was gone, his own bedroom door closing softly behind him. Sansa stood in the hallway for a long moment before retreating to her own bed. In the silence of the dark room, with the sheets cool against her skin, she felt her excitement growing again. They were coming. They would be here tomorrow, the whole lot of them.

 

Two years, it had been. How much had they changed? Rickon would be fourteen now, already in high school. And Rob would be getting  _ married _ this coming summer. It was almost too much to believe.

 

She felt too keyed up to sleep, but sleep she must, if she wanted to be alert for her family in the morning. She turned onto her side, plumping the pillow under her head, but it was no good.

 

Kicking the blankets to the end of the bed, she stood, and exited the room, crossing the hallway to Sandor’s before she could change her mind. He was still awake when she entered, that much was obvious. His face was illuminated by the glow of his phone, and she could see when he looked over at her.

 

“Thought you wanted to be alone.”

 

Sansa pushed the door closed behind her. She approached the bed, resting one knee on the edge.

 

“I changed my mind.”

  
  


\------

  
  


They’d woken late the next day, and Sansa hurried through her morning routine, yanking the brush quickly through her still-wet hair. She tossed the brush back on the bed, and went over to Sandor, sitting at the small table. He looked unusually neat today, in a crisp button-down that he’d actually buttoned most of the way to the top, and what she knew were his best jeans. His thick fingers were tapping incessantly on the table, and he kept glancing towards the window. Not that they could see the parking not from their vantage, but she understood his nervousness. He’d fiddled with his hair more then she’d even seen before today, brushing it carefully over the worst of his scars, but he’d actually pulled it up in the end, away from his face. Sansa wondered if that were a sign of ease or defiance.

 

Sansa dropped into the chair opposite him, face in her hands.

 

“We don’t have enough eggs. I was going to make everyone breakfast.” They’d been driving all night, surely they would be hungry. 

 

“Don’t worry about it. They came to see you, not to eat breakfast.”

 

Pushing her hair back from her forehead, Sansa scanned the apartment. It was clean, Sandor had seen to that. But it was still so masculine looking. Her funds had been limited to buying food and her own furniture, and her time to finding an appropriate job. But she should’ve  _ made _ the time, left her mark on the place more than she had. There were curtains on the windows now, pretty ones that she’d made herself the other day. And a little glass vase from the thrift store down the street, with a little bunch of cloth flowers in it, but-

 

No. No, Sandor was right. It would all be fine. Her stomach fluttered. She reached over the table, meaning to grab his hand, but her phone vibrated just then, and she scrambled for that instead.

 

“Oh.” She licked her lips, looking up at Sandor. “They’re almost here. Rob says they stopped, and they’re bringing bagels and coffee.” 

 

He nodded, looking almost as nervous as she felt. Why  _ was _ she so goddamn nervous anyway? They were her family. They were coming to see her, they loved her. She’d spoken with nearly all of them between now and then, and texted more than she had since high school. But that knot in her stomach just wouldn’t go away.

 

It wouldn’t be real; couldn’t be until they came through that door. Sansa smiled tremulously over at Sandor, and waited.

 

Then at last, at long last, a knock on the door. She wheeled around to look at the door, then snapped back to look at Sandor. He stared right back, making no move to rise to his feet. Another knock came, an impatient sounding rap this time. She rose to her feet, feeling clumsy and uncoordinated. The locks made a loud sounding snap as she disengaged them, and the door swung open as if in slow motion. And then-

 

“ _ Sansa!” _ She was crying, sobbing, and she didn’t care. Her mother’s arms were around her, and that was all that mattered. She buried her face into her shoulder, taking in the familiar smell of her, feeling tears soaking into her long, grey-streaked hair. Sansa pulled back, needing to  _ see _ her again, to reassure herself that it was real. She was a little thinner, a little greyer than Sansa had last seen, with tears glistening in her eyes, but it was really her.

 

It was only then that other faces swam into view, that she felt the hands on her shoulder and arms, heard the voices calling out her name. They were all there; Mother, Robb, Rickon, Arya Bran- even Cousin Jon. She was passed among them, hugged, kissed, lifted off her feet. 

 

She pulled back at last, laughing through her tears, to reach for her mother again, and be reached for in return. After a lingering embrace, with Arya trying to pull her around all the while, Mom kissed her soundly on her cheeks, and she let herself be drawn to the others again.

 

“Oh my God, Rickon, You got so big!” He would be as tall as Robb by the look of him, and he grinned at her words, lifting her in the air as though to prove it all the more. Arya was still chattering in her ear, her words almost indecipherable, but the name  _ Joffrey _ made her pause. 

 

Later. Now was for happiness.

 

She leaned into Robb, giggling as he kissed her cheek, making her feel all a little girl again. “Robb, I can’t believe you’re getting married!” He really wasn't that much older then she.

 

Robb grinned back at her, eyes red-rimmed, though he’d shed no tears that Sansa could see. “I want you to meet her. You’d like her, and I just know she’d love you. Her name’s Jeyne. Jeyne Westerling.” His smile grew even wider. “You won’t have to remember that last bit for long. You’ll come to the wedding, won’t you?”

 

“Of course!” His words had abruptly reminded her, and she turned towards Sandor, still sitting at the table.

 

“Mom, Robb- everyone, this is Sandor.”

 

His earlier nervousness was hidden now, face blank as he stood and approached. They all looked over- and in Arya and Mother’s case, up- at him. For all her descriptions of Sandor, and her warnings regarding his scarring, Sansa had not thought to mention his size. His general bulk was such an indisputable part of him, a part that she had grown so used to over the past few years, that the thought had not even crossed her mind. There was a brief silence before Mother approached, one hand extended, wiping at her eyes with the other.

 

“Sandor- Sansa has told me so much about you. I’m glad to meet you.” As she grasped his hand, her own looking engulfed, she stepped nearer. “Thank you. For helping my daughter as you did.”

 

Sandor twitched a hand up as though to rub at his chin, then dropped it again. “She didn’t need my help. She did everything on her own.”

 

Robb spoke up, advancing to grip the hand that Mother had just released. “That’s not what she told us. She said she couldn’t have done it without you. Not just this-” He made a general gesture at the apartment at large. “Any of it.”

 

Sandor seemed to be at a loss for words at that- a rare state for him to be entrenched in, Sansa knew. She took pity on him, and broke the moment to introduce him to the rest of the family. As there were not nearly enough chairs at the table for everyone, they pulled what chairs there were around the couch. Sansa sat with her mother and Bran on the couch, Bran’s cane across his knees. Sandor was pressed into a chair, and Jon and Robb claimed the other two, citing their ‘advanced age’.

 

Arya and Rickon were left to sprawl on the floor, a position that neither looked too unhappy with. Bagels were passed around, and an impressive array of coffee and hot chocolate presented for Sansa and Sandor to choose from. Stories flowed like water, and Sansa was dizzied by all she had missed. Bran had a maybe-girlfriend now- ‘maybe’ because he refused to divulge the exact nature of his relationship with the girl named Meera Reed, saying only that she and his brother were his best friends. But he grinned like a loon every time he said her name, and it warmed Sansa deep in her belly to see. Sansa learned that Arya had broken up with Gendry, which came as a surprise given how close they’d been. Robb had a new job in the Riverlands, and Jon would be going further north this spring than most people ever dared, joining a team to collect ice samples.

 

In the midst of all this chatter, Sandor sat quietly, watching everything. She kept turning to him, wanting to see that he was not overwhelmed by all the people suddenly invading his apartment. Until a short while ago, he’d lived here alone, and now seven additional people were crammed into his small living room. Each time she looked, the mask was still in place; his face unreadable as he held his undrunk coffee. But when she caught his eye, she thought she could detect a softness in them, and when she smiled unrestrainedly at him, the corner of his mouth twitched.

 

After a long time, during which all bagels were eaten, crumbs hastily cleaned, and drinks gulped down, Jon and Robb went down to see about bringing in the furniture they’d brought for her, Sandor trailing behind with Rickon chattering excitedly at him. She watched as they filed out the door. She’d always thought of Robb as tall. He certainly had a few inches on Sansa, but next to Sandor, anybody would look short.

 

As the door closed behind them, Arya rose from the floor and stole Sandor’s abandoned chair, sitting in it the wrong way, chin resting on the back of it.

 

“He’s- tall, isn’t he?” Her little sister was looking at her, eyebrow raised.

 

Sansa nodded, a bit warily. “Yes.”

 

“It’s a small place here. You could always come home with us.”

 

Sansa smiled a little tightly. “It’s fine, especially now that you’ve brought my things. And-” She took a deep breath. “-and I just want to say.” She took a look around, meeting the eyes of all three people still in the room with her. “I don’t want any of you thinking badly about Sandor. He’s  _ not _ taking advantage of me. Of this.” She looked at Arya as she said that last. Her little sister had sent a very strongly worded email a few days back, downright threatening Sandor, though it had been Sansa who’d received it. Sandor being Sandor, the threats themselves didn’t worry her- but she didn’t like the bad feeling behind them.

 

“I liked him alright.” They all turned to look at Bran, sitting beside Sansa. Of all of them, he’d been the quietest in the reunion, although that wasn't all that unusual for him in Sansa’s recollection.

 

Arya scowled at that. “How can you know? He barely said anything.”

 

Sansa hurried to Sandor’s defense. “Well, he was nervous.”

 

“Of course he is.” Mom leaned forward, cutting off whatever Arya had been about to say. “This has all happened very quickly for him too, hasn't it?”

 

“Yes.” She turned quickly towards her mother, away from Arya scowling on the chair. “He’s been so kind. He always has been. In his own way.”

 

Mother took her hands then, eyes meeting Sansa’s steadily. “Arya’s right though, Sansa.” She held up a quelling finger when Sansa opened her mouth. “I’m  _ not _ saying anything about your Sandor. He seems like a good young man, and he’s been a  _ very _ good friend to you.” She bit her lip then, holding Sansa’s hands all the tighter. “I just want you to know. I know you can make it on your own, I think we can all see that. But you don’t have to. I just want you to know that. Whatever you have with him, with Sandor-” She shot a look at Arya, but the girl didn’t interrupt. ”I don't want either of you to feel you have to rush things, living together like this.”

 

Sansa opened her mouth, then closed it again. It was a fair thought. But she hadn’t felt rushed, not at all. It had all felt right. It wasn’t as though they had just met last week; this had really been building up over the past few years.

 

“I know, Mom. But it feels- it doesn't feel too fast. Sandor and I, we’ve known each other for a while now. And whatever happens with us will happen. I’m not worried about that now.” 

 

Sansa wrinkled her brow. She wasn't saying it right, not at all. “I mean, we’re just working on today. All the tomorrows will come, when we’re ready.”

 

Mom smiled a little weakly, but squeezed her hands. “Just know, that you can always come home, if you need to. Always.”

 

“I know.” The others came back just then, grunting under the weight of Sansa’s old dresser and bed frame, and there was a general scramble to open doors and call out instructions.

  
  


\-------

  
  


The first day of the visit passed all too quickly, a blur of furniture and greasy take-out, not to mention beer for all those old enough to drink it. Then they were gone, with lingering embraces and clutched hands, and promises to return on the morrow.

 

Sansa had thought that she wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink after the excitement of the day, but she surprised herself by dropping off quickly. Sandor had to work the next morning, and she rather thought he was grateful for it. He certainly left quickly enough, a bit earlier than his usual time, pausing only to press a kiss to Sansa’s lips and to wish her luck in whatever the day’s endeavors would bring. 

 

They all came pouring back in not an hour after Sandor had left, and insisted on bringing her out to breakfast. She thoroughly enjoyed the lavish meal, finding everyone pressing choice bits of their own dishes onto her. Mother kept saying over and over again that she was too thin, that she needed to eat. Glancing down at herself, Sansa wondered if it were true. If so, it was no fault of the past week. She’d been eating less healthily than she had in years. But before that- the voice drifted back to her. It had always been the same, whether she had been eating pasta, having a dollop of whipped cream atop her hot chocolate, asking for extra dressing-

 

Do you really  _ need _ that Sansa?

 

She shook herself, hard. That voice had no business being here, not now. Not ever again, if she could help it. It had no power over her, not anymore.

 

This past week she had been hard at work, searching for a job, and until she had found one, that had meant walking through the city all day. She was always tired upon returning to the apartment, and though Sandor tried hard, his cooking skills were really limited to eggs and all that prepackaged food he had. They’d been ordering out quite a bit of late, or eating frozen meals. 

 

As they finished the meal Sansa thought rather guiltily of the bill, though she wasn’t sure why. Robb, who wound up paying, could well afford it. He had his trust fund on top of his new job, but still it rankled Sansa slightly. She supposed that was a sign of her own progress. Until very recently, she’d never thought of the price as any sort of barrier, or even something to notice. It had been one of the only perks of being engaged to Joffrey.

 

“Sansa?”

 

She looked up, realizing that she’d been holding the glass of orange juice loosely in her hand for some time now. She looked up at Jon, who was looking intently at her from his spot beside Robb.

 

“You alright?”

 

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Clearing her throat, she swallowed the last of her orange juice before replying. “Yeah. Better than I have been in a long time.”

 

He smiled at her then- his face opening, breaking free of the solemn expression it usually heald. It hurt, taking her by surprise at the depth of the ache. Jon looked more like Father than ever these days, with the short beard he’d grown. It was strange; that he resembled Father more than Sansa’s own brothers. But that was foolish thinking. She might try saying he looked like his mother; which would be equally true. But still, she had to swallow hard past the lump in her throat before rejoining the conversation.

 

They’d lingered, and it was past midday when they emerged from the restaurant. There was a concerted groan when Mother loaded them all into the van and announced they would be taking Sansa clothes shopping. But despite their complaints, nobody wandered far as Mother started Sansa through the mall, entering a likely store and pulling various garments from their racks to hold against Sansa’s body.

 

“You don’t have to, Mom.”

 

The raw silk blouse she was holding up to Sansa now was faded blue, and pretty. “No, I don’t. I want to.” With a satisfied expression, Mother passed the blouse to Rickon, who was trailing behind them.

 

“I mean, I don’t want you to. Spend all this money on me.”

 

Mother fixed her with a  _ look _ . “Sansa, a mother always wants to spoil her daughter. Especially a daughter she hasn’t seen in over two years.” She let that last sink in a bit before rifling through the clothes once more, adopting a lighter tone. “Besides. I’ll buy them, whether you’ll take them or not. And they’re too  _ young _ for me, so what you won't take will go to Arya. And you know how that’ll end.”

 

Sansa shuddered, not wanting to picture the beautiful silk lying crumpled and forgotten in the back of a closet.

 

“I thought so.” Mother looked as though she were about to say more, when a loud crash had them both whipping around. Arya was laughing uproariously at an upended Jon, who was sprawled over a tipped display. Unless Sansa missed her guess, Arya had just put him in that position.

 

Mother shook her head. “ _ Children. _ ” She walked briskly over, arriving even before the hurrying salespeople. Sansa winced, knowing first-hand now how long that display might have taken to create.

 

Someone fell in beside her, and she smiled up at Robb. He was surveying the scene, looking very grown-up in his aloofness. He returned the smile though, and glanced around before turning to her. Rickon had loped after mother, with the clumsy grace only an adolescent boy, grown too tall too fast, could accomplish. Robb took her arm, drawing her attention back to him.

 

“I’ve been meaning to ask. I just didn’t want to put you on the spot, in front of everyone. That man- Sandor. You’re with him, now?”

 

Sansa nodded, heart falling a little.

 

“I just want to make sure. He treats you well, doesn't he? He doesn’t-”

 

“No! Yes- I mean, yes, he treats me well. Better than anyone else could.” Because nobody else was Sandor.

 

“Good. And Sansa, if anything ever happens again, with him, with someone else, I don't care. Call me.” She wanted to smile, to tease, but the weight in his eyes looked too heavy to be lifted that way. So she only nodded.

 

He squeezed her shoulder, and she was suddenly glad that she’d told him all she had. With the exception of Arya, she’d spoken with everybody on the phone in the days before they’d arrived. While she’d at least touched on her reasons for leaving Joffrey with everyone, it was only Robb she’d really opened up to. There was something about an older brother, that way.

 

She caught his hand, holding it tight. “Thank you.”

 

And then Mother was back, and Arya, Rickon and the rest of them. The shopping took some time, as Mother insisted on Sansa trying everything on right then and there, and coming out to be fussed over afterwards. But at long last, they were packed into the van, with three bulging bags pushed in under Sansa’s legs.

 

Squirming In the back seat, hip pressed uncomfortably against Rickon’s, Sansa snapped on her seatbelt. Being crammed in like this reminded her of their childhood vacations, pressed against her siblings, the car full of noise. Only, Father had been in the front seat before.

 

“Back to the apartment, then?” She leaned forward as she called to Mother, who looked comfortably ensconced in the driver’s seat.

 

“I thought I’d take you to the grocery store first.”

 

Sansa sighed. “Mom, you  _ really _ don’t need to. We have enough to eat. And where would we put it?” She gestured at the tangled mess of legs in the car.

 

Mother glanced back, catching her eye in the rearview mirror. “I do have a trunk, you know. Besides. Do you really think you could stop me?”

 

Sansa slumped back against her seat. “No.”

 

Upon reaching the store, Mother hustled the whole group of them inside, and buying a veritable mountain of groceries that Sansa was absolutely sure could never fit into their fridge and pantries. But fit they did, with studious rearranging from Bran and Mother.

 

They’d just finished putting the lot away when Sandor came home into the mess of things, nearly walking into Rickon where he lounged against the fridge. He looked quiet and uncomfortable in his sweaty clothes amongst all the unfamiliar people. Mother must’ve seen the same, because she herded the group towards the door after only a moment.

 

“We’ll meet you both for dinner, after you've had a chance to clean up.” She leveled a smile at Sandor that was not returned, but she plowed on nonetheless. “I’ll text you, Sansa, when I know where we’re going.”

 

Sansa opened her mouth to give her some suggestions, but closed it again, glancing at Sandor. All the places she knew best were pricey to say the least.

 

“You don’t have to Mom- you’ve just got me all this-”

 

“I’d like to. Please. You know we have to leave tonight.”

 

Oh. In all the bustle and excitement, she had somehow forgotten how quickly they would have to leave. Mother kissed her, though they’d be seeing each other within a few hours. The kitchen was startlingly quiet, now that they’d gone.

 

Sansa turned to Sandor, sweaty and grubby in his work clothes. “Are you- doing alright?” It felt silly to ask now, given that he’d spent all of five minutes in her family’s company today, but she’d fallen asleep so quickly and completely last night that she hadn’t thought to ask him.

 

“Fine.” He walked towards the hall, pulling his shirt off as he went. Sansa glanced around, although she knew they were alone. She followed, watching as he removed the rest of his clothing with a tired groan. 

 

Sansa hopped to the edge of his large bed, watching him with her tongue between her teeth. He glanced at her as he tossed his dirty clothes towards the hamper. 

 

“We’ll have to leave soon.”

 

“I know.” She made no move to touch, to initiate anything. “That doesn’t mean I can’t  _ look _ .”

 

He shook his head, pulling his towel from the end of the bed to carry to the bathroom. Sansa entertained the idea of following, of doing some more watching, but no. Not a good idea just now. So she sorted through her new clothes, thinking about what she might wear for dinner.

  
  


\------

  
  


The food was delicious, although they were a bit cramped, grouped around two tables pushed together.

 

“I think military school looks good on you.” Arya ducked away from Sansa’s hands trying to ruffle her shorn head.

 

“It was easier this way. I’m no good at doing hair.”

 

“Well, I think it looks nice.” A little masculine for Sansa’s taste perhaps, but it suited Arya well enough. 

 

Sansa had made a point of sitting beside Sandor, her leg pressed tight against his. He was distracted throughout the meal- Rickon, at least, seemed to have taken a shine to him, and was talking about anything and everything. Shaggydog, homework, school, girls- Sansa should’ve known that he’d be impressed by Sandor’s scars rather than intimidated. Rickon had never done anything the ordinary way.

 

Robb spoke with Sandor a bit, and Mother did as well, perhaps to show Sansa that she really did find him acceptable. 

 

“Sansa tells me that you’ll be going to the Academy, Sandor.”

 

He swallowed his mouthful of food hastily, and took a gulp of water before replying. “Well, not yet. Really. I have to pass an entrance exam first.”

 

Sansa piped in, “A friend of his, Bronn, just graduated, he’s been helping him study. And he said he’d introduce him to the man who runs the school-”

 

Rickon interrupted, leaning around to stare at her, then up at Sandor.

 

“You get to meet  _ Barristan Selmy _ ?”

 

“I guess so.” Sandor was looking a little nonplussed until Sansa explained.

 

“Rickon wants to be a cop too. He follows- followed all the stories.”

 

“ _ Follow _ , I still do. You know it was him who took out the Blackfyres,  _ and _ took care of Bronzegate, and everything.”

 

Sandor was blinking bemusedly at him. 

 

“Can you introduce me?”

 

“Rickon. Sandor hasn’t even met the man yet.” Sansa leaned forward, was about to take her younger brother’s hand, when Sandor spoke up, startling her.

 

“Tell you what.  _ If _ I meet him, and  _ if _ I get in, and  _ if _ I graduate. I can try.”

 

Robb snorted, and even Arya smiled a little reluctantly. Mother was ordering desert when Sansa stretched, putting her lips close to Sandor’s ear.

 

“When.”

 

“What?”

 

“You said  _ if _ . That’s wrong. I think you meant  _ when _ .”

 

He just shook his head. Turning back to the rest of them, Sansa caught her mother looking over at them. Smiling a little. She couldn’t help but flush, although she felt rather pleased.

  
  


\-----

  
  


The goodbye was long, and horrible. She’d only just gotten them back, and here they were leaving already. Sansa rubbed angry knuckles over her eyes. She knew they had to. Arya had to be back before the morning, and Bran and Rickon had school as well. But still.

 

When she’d received and given more embraces then she could count, when Sandor had had his had shaken both a little reluctantly (Arya) and over enthusiastically (Rickon), it was finally time. She clutched her mother to her, hard, and felt the same intensity in her mother’s grip.

 

Pulling back, Mother held Sansa’s face in her hands, palms to her cheeks. “Call me. Promise?”

 

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. With a final hug, Mother turned to Sandor.

 

“Sandor.”

 

“Ma’am.” 

 

Mother seemed to study him for a moment, then stuck her cheek out, waiting. Sandor looked down at her for a moment, before glancing at Sansa. Seeing no help forthcoming, he bent, and pressed a quick kiss to her upturned cheek.

 

Nodding to herself, she buttoned her coat, turning to include Sansa in her gaze. “I expect to see you for Christmas. Both of you.” She smiled a little tremulously. “Take care of each other?” But her eyes were back on Sandor now, and it was he who replied.

 

“Always.”

 

There was scrabbling as they all piled into the van, and waving as they drew out of sight. It suddenly felt too cold, and Sansa drew Sandor to the truck, eager for the warmth of the cab. She wanted to call them already.

 

“What. Was that.”

 

She couldn't help but smile at the nonplussed look on his face.

 

“That was family.”


End file.
